The Princess Butler
by I am Best
Summary: Bard comes to some... very wrong conclusions about the Burnett butler, but also some fairly right ones.


Male pronouns for Grell since it's Bard's limited POV

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Bard piled the last of the streamers into Finny's arms, sent him off, then stepped back to observe the now clean entryway. It seemed sadder with all its bright colours stripped away, the setting sun turning every shadow deep and dark. The room was back to its old, morose self, but for one last, cloud fluff of light blue on the lower steps leading up to the second floor.

As soon as Lady Elizabeth had danced herself to exhaustion (and she had more stamina than some soldiers Bard knew), and dinner had been served, Sebastian had left the servants to clear away the cute. The first thing Bard had done was shuck himself of that hideous pink dress thing, and Finny and Tanaka had followed suit. He'd distributed chores, and, of course, since Sebastian wasn't there to see them, the clean-up had gone remarkably smoothly.

Bard walked over to see what was left to be done but paused before rounding a pillar once he realized what it was. Like he was hunting a deer, Bard stilled so he could observe Grell without spooking the high-strung man. Grell was a strange one, and this was the first time he was working both unattended and without incident. Despite his fit earlier and there not being a need to anymore, Grell was still wearing the dress Lady Elizabeth had put him in. It had taken on a more reddish hue in the dying light, as had his hair, and Bard had to wonder if he liked it better now as a result.

The butler didn't seem aware Bard was there, more intent on carefully replacing each individual stuffed animal back in their respective boxes. He had a small pile of empty boxes left, and while Bard would have just chucked them in, forced the tops closed, and been done half an hour ago, Grell made sure their ribbons and limbs sat right, that nothing was going to be matted or pinched. The way he handled them spoke about more than simply making sure they were stored correctly. It was like he was ... after a moment's consideration, Bard settled on _making them comfortable_ to describe Grell's actions.

That dress really did make Grell seem girlish. One of those storybook princesses waiting for a prince. Though he looked surprisingly at ease like that, legs crossed and half-tucked under his layers of dress, small hands working carefully, considerately. Bard knew men who wore dresses as a lark, or as a fetish, which was where Bard had supposed Grell's interest in sexy, red dresses lay before. But now he wasn't so sure.

It was the smile, Bard realized. Grell, he'd learnt over the short time he'd known him, didn't smile unless there was a specific reason to. His neutral expression was always a frown that made him look worried about everything when coupled with his eyebrows. The small smile fit his face better, made him seem cutely confused instead of genuinely fretful.

Bard flushed. Grell looked so young because he _was_ young, at least by a decade compared to Bard, and Bard was willing to bet also a little touched in the head. He shouldn't creep on him from behind pillars. The poor guy'd probably think it was romantic or something, given what he thought about Sebastian. Thank God Sebastian wasn't interested in taking advantage of that, but it did worry Bard.

Bard cleared his throat as though he'd not been there the whole time and circled around the pillar. "Hey, Grell, how's the packing going?"

"Oh, fine." Grell closed another box and wrapped its ribbon around it, tying it neatly and deftly in place before he set it aside with the rest of the completed ones. He didn't even seem bothered by the slowness of his actions. Grell picked up another one and flipped the stuffed animal over, exposing a small, metal button on its paw that glinted in the waning sunlight. "Did you know all of these animals are produced by the Funtom company? Some of these had very limited runs - collector's items."

"Uhuh," Bard said, not sure what to make of the sudden information.

"The concept's really very clever: creating artificial demand so you can charge more for fewer products. Actively targeting _adults_ to sell toys to. Then produce the same thing, but without the stamp, so they'd have to buy them again for their children." Grell hugged the animal, a rabbit that looked just like all the others the company was known for to Bard. He'd have to take his word that this one was somehow special. Grell held it like it was special.

Bard wasn't sure what to do now, so just stood there as Grell petted one of the long, floppy ears, off in his own world. While just a moment ago Bard would have supposed Grell was thinking about tea parties and dresses, now he suspected Grell was actually thinking about the marketing tactics of the Funtom Corporation.

"Today was nice, wasn't it?"

Or he was thinking about parties.

"Uh. Yeah! I was actually real surprised." Bard laughed, trying to dispell some of the awkwardness that had developed. It was unfair that Grell seemed so oblivious to it. "I didn't know you could sing."

"We've only known each other for a day. There are a lot of things you don't know about me." Grell flashed a grin at Bard before quickly looking away like he just realized he'd said something improper.

Maybe he wasn't as unaware to the awkwardness as he seemed. Bard already knew which way his tastes went. But no. Grell liked people like Sebastian, and Bard knew he wasn't any Sebastian (which, personally, he thought was a good thing). Unless that was one of those things he _didn't_ know but thought he knew.

"Gah!" Bard rubbed his hair in frustration. He was reading too much into this. All this pussyfooting wasn't him. When he glanced down again, Grell had that familiar frown on his face. "Oh, uh. Sorry. Today was nice, but..."

"But?" Grell prompted.

"You know Sebastian's not a good guy, right?" That hadn't been what he'd meant to say, but there it was. "You chase after guys like that, you're going to get hurt."

Bard worried he'd overstepped or offended Grell as, instead of replying, he put the rabbit away and began to tie the ribbon around its box. "I know," he said finally. "But it's safer that way."

"How the hell is that safer?"

Grell moved on to the next stuffed animal and refused to look up from it as he said, "There's no real illusion about where I stand with men like that, so the only way they can hurt me is physically."

Bard wasn't sure what to say to that. That... was a lot of information. Probably more than Grell had intended to reveal. That Sebastian clearly wasn't the first, that there was physical violence - it made Bard a little sick to think of someone hitting Grell. He'd seen women hiding bruises and sad eyes, and it was all too easy to imagine Grell in their places. Grell continued packing like he'd not said anything so awful as all that.

"Grell," Bard said, drawing Grell's attention from the last box as he knelt in front of him. Bard reached forward and took both of Grell's hands in his own. They were small and fragile-looking in Bard's large, rough ones, but not as soft as he'd expected. Grell did have a life beyond the day he'd spent here. He wasn't actually one of those women, as much as he looked one in the dress. "You're kind of weird, but you don't deserve to be hurt at all."

"But -"

"No. There is nothing you can say to make that not true. You don't deserve to be hurt. Is that clear?" Bard stared Grell down until a wobbly smile emerged on his face and he nodded. Bard stood without releasing his hands, and gently pulled Grell to his feet. Bard knew what he wanted to do, but couldn't make the first move, not with someone like Grell. He didn't want to lead Grell to do something he wasn't ready for.

The sun had set, its glow replaced by the pale moon. They examined each other in this new light, until a clock chimed the hour.

Grell gasped and pulled away, leaving a coolness in his place and Bard's heart somewhere around his feet. "I need to change!"

His hands still in Bard's brought him up quick, though, and he looked down at their clasped fingers, then up at Bard. Quick as a flash of moonlight Grell stepped forward and gave Bard a kiss, just off-centre of his mouth, before pulling himself free.

Then like one of those fairytales Lady Elizabeth had spent the day chattering about, Grell was gone - off to replace the princess with the butler.

Bard stood alone in the moonlight with the remnants of Grell's presence, a faint perfume and the lingering pressure on his skin. Both were fading quickly.

He was barely a chef, much less a prince, anyway.

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I'm trying to get faster with my stories, so I wrote and edited this one today. If I missed anything or there's any critique, I'm all ears!


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